


What Remains

by AutumnLeavesSoaring



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (Also I'm not quite sure who will end up with who... or who will survive), Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Canon compliant until the end of 3b, Character Death, Cure, Family and Pack is, Graphic Violence, There will be ships but they're not the focus, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie!Allison, gen - Freeform, then things get CRAZY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-16 19:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15444054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnLeavesSoaring/pseuds/AutumnLeavesSoaring
Summary: The zombie apocalypse shouldn't have been a surprise because, well, there was such a thing as werewolves. Fighting for your life against dead friends also shouldn't have come as a shock, becausezombies. So then, finding a cure couldn't be outside the realm of possibility, could it?Stiles desperately wants to make up for all the death he thinks he caused whilst Scott needs to save as many people as he can. And Allison, well she just wants to eat everyone... until she doesn't. And then it turns out that cures aren't miracles, everyone's technically a murderer, and life - whether it's your first one or your second - can never be simple.Set after 3b.





	What Remains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted for the Teen Wolf Gen Fest, organised by Teen Wolf Legacy.
> 
> This has been in my head since the end of 3b, now I'm letting it free on you guys. Enjoy my take on a Teen Wolf Zombie Apocalypse!

**ALLISON** ****  
****  
Food.  
  
It's near.  
  
Need it. Hurt for it.  
  
Walk. Find it. Food.  
  
Sound.  
  
There.  
  
Turn.  
  
Move.  
  
Hurt.  
  
Hear it.  
  
Smell it.  
  
See it. Reach for it.  
  
Food. Bite. Bite. Bite.  
  
It fights.  
  
Crawl. Get it.  
  
Hurt.  
  
Food.  
  
Eat. Eat.  
  
Food.  
  
Need it.  
  
Hurts.  
  
Walk. Find it.  
  
Food.  
  
Food.  
  
Food.  
  
Hear it. Close. There. Food. Hurts. Reach. Reach. Need it. Food.  


  
***  


****  
**STILES** ****  
  
Stiles had a list, a bag, and his trusty baseball bat. Oh and Scott. Nothing like a super-powered guard dog to get you through the zombie apocalypse. Who knew bashing people's brains in all day would be so difficult? And tiring. And just generally achy. Stiles' hands spent about fifty per cent of their time at shoulder (slash head) height. He really should've invested in weight training before all this. So yeah, having a best buddy who could crush skulls with his bare hands was definitely handy in the current undead situation.  
  
See, Stiles was trying out an approach to life that had been sorely lacking for him since the end of the world, hell, since he decided to search for half a dead body in the woods. Anyway, his new approach to life was thinking positively. So yeah, the world had gone to hell, cannibalism was a daily occurrence and he now spent his days beating people to (second) death. But on the plus side, he definitely had more chance of making it through this than those without supernaturally inclined friends. And he and Scott were raiding the school, which would most likely be dead quiet ( _get it?_ ) Who would ever think of going there at the end of the world? They'd just need to take care of the few zombies wandering around outside, break in, get what they needed and get out.  
  
That plan lasted all of five minutes. It turned out school wasn't as deserted as they'd hoped.  
  
"It's not crawling with them. We can do this," Stiles said, surveying the parking lot where a number of the undead ambled along. If he squinted, it almost looked like the start of a normal school day with exhausted and unwilling students dragging themselves to class. Although that thought was quickly dispelled when he saw a little girl chewing on what looked to be cat’s entrails. Apparently three weeks in zombieland hadn't quite removed Stiles' gag reflex.  
  
"I don't know Stiles, there's a lot of noise coming from the back." Scott was biting his lip, head cocked to one side and frowning.  
  
"Good thing I've got my early warning system with me then," Stiles said, clapping Scott on the shoulder. "C'mon, there's definitely way less here than in town. We can sneak in the front, follow the first part of the plan, stay quiet and get out. We've already come all this way."  
  
"You're really fed up of beans aren't you?" Scott laughed.  
  
"There's a packet of Reece's in my locker that I would literally give my left arm for." At Scott's raised eyebrow he continued. "Yeah I should really stop tempting fate in zombie situations."  
  
"Don't worry, I'd help you tie your shoes. C'mon, let’s clear the parking lot before we go in."  
  
"Yes sir!" Stiles skipped off after him.  
  
After living through 23 days of the walking dead, it turned out that taking down zombies wasn't too difficult when they were spread out in an open space. You could sometimes get the jump on them and stay well away from vice-like hands and deadly teeth. Some were pretty slow - they'd been dead for longer, slowly rotting and falling apart. It made cracking their skulls easier, one or two hits with a bat, a knife through the head, a screwdriver to the eye, a squeeze with a clawed hand. They were nasty to look at though, the stuff of nightmares, with parts missing and parts showing that Stiles was never meant to see. And the smell of them was like a punch to the gut.  
  
But even though they were slow, Stiles had seen people taken out by a group of ones like this. They were surprisingly strong and once one had latched on it wouldn’t be long before there was another and another and then you were being eaten alive. It was not a way Stiles wanted to go; the screaming could go on for minutes.  
  
And that wasn't the worst of it. Not all of the dead were slow. Some were quick, vicious and single minded. Some didn't amble along but prowled with purpose. They didn't feel pain and they wouldn't back off. One on one and they'd easily take you down, might even kill a werewolf, especially if there was a group. Luckily Stiles was slightly quicker than even the liveliest of undead he'd encountered, and his brain was fully functioning. Hanging around with wolves and partaking in their deadly adventures had sure been good training for the apocalypse.  
  
He and Scott moved together, dispatching the dead, watching out for each other, dancing around grasping hands and deadly obstacles. Stiles shoved an old man away from him with the end of his bat, pulling back to crash it into the zombie's skull. The guy’s face collapsed easily; a deadly overcompensation on Stiles' part.  
  
He found himself dragged along with the power of his swing and stumbled against a car, losing his bat in the process, which clattered at his feet. He could hear one coming behind him as he scrabbled on his knees for his weapon, bringing it up just in time to stop its face from latching onto his own. She was strong and bore down on him. He had to hold both ends of the bat and strain to keep her away, trying and failing to force her back enough to be able to stand up properly and attack her. She smushed her cheek and mouth against the wood, tearing through her own flesh in her desperation to eat. Blood and drool drizzled onto Stiles' face and a small part of him worried about contagion. That would be just his luck.  
  
"Stiles, I'm coming!" Scott shouted, although he was grappling with his own undead.  
  
"Take your time buddy," Stiles gasped as the woman's nails scraped over his arms, which began to shake under the strain of holding her back. He really hoped the sarcasm had been obvious.  
  
He glanced away from her grizzled, snarling face towards Scott who had just managed to somehow remove the head of his assailant and was coming to help Stiles. But he was so focussed on coming to Stiles' aid that he didn't notice what was behind him.  
  
"Scott!" Stiles screamed, seeing the zombie racing towards Scott's back - one of the ones that didn't move like it was dead.  
  
Stiles' arms gave out and the dead girl fell onto him, head butting him on the forehead. He scrambled and twisted under her, somehow managing to roll them so he ended up on top. He pushed himself back onto his knees and punched her in the face. Her flesh squished beneath his fist and he could feel it pulling away from the bone beneath. He did it again and again, but all it did was create pulp beneath his hands.  
  
She bucked under him, thrashing and grasping and pulling him down towards her gaping mouth. Stiles struggled from her grip, managed to stand up and stomp his foot down on her head with a sickening crunch. She still moved, still gurgled even with half her face caved in. Stiles smashed his foot into her again and again and again, screaming in fear and rage and desperation until her hands fell to her sides and she was dead. Properly dead. A splat on the asphalt.  
  
Stiles heaved in breaths and fell to the floor, scrabbling for his bat, which had rolled under the car. He could hear Scott's grunts as he fought the other zombie and he prayed that Scott could hold his own for a few more seconds until-  
  
"Yes!" he cried, gripping his bat and launching to his feet. He ran towards Scott and the zombie, which had one arm hanging limply at its side and deep gashes over its head and body. It was still strong though, still deadly, managing to slam Scott against a car with enough power to make him gasp.  
  
Stiles charged, swinging his bat low to take out the zombie's kneecap, bringing it crashing to its knees. Scott pounced on it, grabbing the head between his hands and using his momentum to smash it to the floor once, twice, three times, dead.  
  
Stiles frantically raised his bat, swinging his body around with wide eyes to scan for any more zombies. But only the little girl was left at the entrance to the school, still happily chewing away.  
  
He bent double, taking heaving breaths and listened to the whoosh of his blood racing round his body.  
  
Scott stood, wiping blood and gore from his hands against his shirt.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked, voice strained and eyes scanning Stiles for any sign of injury.  
  
"No damage done. Blood, guts and brains are all hers," he wheezed, motioning towards the woman he'd stomped to death. "Damn, who'd guess that you were the asthmatic... Just gimme a sec to catch my breath and then I'm good to go in."  
  
"You really think we're going in there after that?"  
  
"All this was pretty pointless if we don't."  
  
"Stiles, we almost died!"  
  
"I wouldn't say almost, I mean sure there were some hairy moments, but welcome to the apocalypse!" Stiles grinned. "And really since when has nearly dying ever stopped us?"  
  
"When it's pointless!" Scott was angry now, his voice gaining an inhuman growl. "What are we gonna find in there Stiles? A few cans of coke and some chocolate! How is that worth this? We don't even know what's in there! We'd have nowhere to run and you're exhausted already. This isn't some video game where you die and go back to level one so stop fucking around!"  
  
Stiles looked up, shocked at Scott's outburst. Scott was fully wolfed out and breathing hard. "Let's just go home okay," Scott said, moving to leave.  
  
"No, wait!" Stiles called, but Scott continued walking, rubbing his shoulder and swinging his arm, loosening his muscles after the fight. "I can't Scottie," Stiles admitted quietly, knowing his friend would hear him. "I need- there's Adderall in my locker, okay? I need to get it."  
  
Scott turned back to him, his anger suddenly disappearing.  
  
"Why didn't you say anything?"  
  
"I guess I didn't want you to have something else to worry about," Stiles murmured, playing with the bat in his hands. "It's not like I'm almost out of it or anything, I just... don't want to get to that point when I don't have any."  
  
"Hey," Scott cut in, moving back to him and resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "we'll figure something out, okay? And don't keep stuff from me, we've got each other's backs - that's how this works."  
  
Stiles shrugged awkwardly.  
  
"I know, it's just not fun being the only breakable human around."  
  
"You've handled yourself pretty well so far, and I worry about everyone, supernatural or not. Perks of being an Alpha," Scott said with a grin and Stiles snorted. Scott pulled back and hefted his rucksack further onto his shoulders. "C'mon, let's go rescue your meds."  
  
"Oh my hero," Stiles simpered, clutching his bat to his chest. "How will I ever repay you?"  
  
"How about trying to avoid getting us killed."  
  
"Deal."  
  
They sauntered up to the school's entrance where the little girl with cat guts down her chin and pigtails in her hair finally noticed them, stumbling forward and rasping. Stiles was pretty sure he recognised her. Two hits and she finally stopped gurgling.  


  
***  


**SCOTT**

  
They reached their lockers without incident, snatching pills, spare clothes and books - not for knowledge of course, but the paper would make good kindling. Stiles pulled out a bag of clinking bottles, at which Scott's nostrils flared and face scrunched at the smell of the wolfsbane and mountain ash inside.  
  
It turned out Stiles _did_ have a packet of Reece's in there, which earned a muted whoop. Scott pulled out an old inhaler from his own locker and tucked it into his bag.  
  
"Someone might need it," he replied to Stile's bemused expression. He continued rifling through his locker, pulling some things into his bag and shoving others back where he'd found them. He didn't expect to come across the picture, couldn't remember even putting it there. But there she was, smiling and beautiful, and it was all he could do to quickly slip it into his bag so Stiles wouldn't see. He turned his back on Stiles, pretending to reach into a difficult spot in his locker, trying to hide the pain, the want and the loss that was crawling around in his throat and threatening to spill from his eyes. Composed, he closed his locker and handed Stiles the bolt cutters.  


  
***

  
**STILES**

  
They were stuffing their bags with energy bars from Greenberg's locker - the guy was never without one of those things in his hand and Stiles was very inventive when it came to finding food stashes, absently hoping he wasn't stealing from the dead this time - and were about to move on to the vending machines when the screaming started. Scott, _of course_ , raced off to the rescue, leaving Stiles to stumble after him, wrestling both bags and his bat into a position where he could hopefully defend himself without losing anything.  
  
He could hear them now, gurgling and moaning and moving towards the tortured screams that Stiles was following. No way was this going to end well, but Stiles wasn't going to leave Scott.  
  
Turning a corner something ran at him and he swung instinctively for the head. A clawed hand grabbed the bat just before it reached Scott's face, stopping the attack and spinning Stiles around.  
  
"It's too late," Scott said, propelling Stiles down the corridor. "They killed her before I could get there."  
  
"Who was it?"  
  
"Dunno, I didn't see. Just heard," Scott grimaced. Stiles wanted to gag thinking of the wet, crunching, squelching sounds zombies made when feasting. This was one instance where he didn't envy wolfy hearing.  
  
"We need to leave, there's too many," Scott said, still pushing Stiles faster and faster, not trying to silence the sounds they were making as they clattered through the school. Speed over stealth. That was bad.  
  
"I can't tell where they are, it's like they're everywhere!" Scott said, panic in his voice, and Stiles tried to focus his hearing to find where their groans and screeches were coming from, human hearing for once being an advantage over a werewolf's in echoing corridors.  
  
They nearly careened into a mob of the undead and were driven back where they had come from, and then there was another surging out at them, fingertips brushing over Stiles as he bent his body out of the way, diving through swinging doors into another hallway.  
  
"Stiles get out! I'll draw them off!"  
  
He turned, seeing what must have been at least twenty of the dead in the hall behind the doors, all turned towards Scott who was running away from Stiles, and following his shouts. There was nothing Stiles could do.  
  
"Damn it Scott!" he muttered, and turned down the corridor raising his bat. _Stupid self sacrificing werewolf!_ He moved as quietly as he could. He could still hear moans in this part of the building, and forced himself not to panic and sprint through the school. A few more turns and he'd be at a fire exit. _Take it slow and steady and they won't notice you. It's not like they're wolves - so easy to sneak past compared to wolves._  
  
Stiles' thoughts did not lessen his fear. Being on his own was so much worse than fleeing with Scott. Now it was just him and his bat against zombie-frickin-high.  
  
Something moved to his right and he jumped, slashing his bat into it. Glass rained down onto the floor and the crash echoed loud in his ears.  
  
"Oh no, nonononono." It had been his reflection. He'd freaked out at his _reflection_ . And now all he could hear was groans in a cacophony of noise, and movement to his left and he was braining the creature that dove at him, and running for his life. And then he was hit by one, flying through a doorway and crashing onto a desk. It's fingers were grasping at his skin, and he wrestled with it, grabbing it's head and pulling it away and-  
  
Everything stopped. Because he knew that face. He didn't know the snarl, the gnash of teeth, the crazed and bloodshot eyes, the spit flying at his face, the blood-stained teeth, the grey skin. But he knew her. He knew the dark and wavy hair, the slim and tall figure, the strong jaw, the dark and shapely eyebrows, the long neck, the archers fingers.  
  
She was so Allison and so not and all Stiles could do was gape. Because he never thought he would see her again, and everything that he had been desperately, hopelessly holding back came crashing into him.  
  
"Allison, I-" Stiles choked. And he didn't know how to finish, how to say all the things that he needed to say. Because there weren't words for what had happened, what he wished had happened, for the guilt and the pain and the _it should have been me_ . But then Allison forced her head closer and her tongue was moving slick over his nose and she was groaning and wrapping her hands around his head and _this was not Allison._  
  
Stiles rolled and they fell off the teacher's desk and slammed onto the floor. This would have winded a normal person but Allison didn't stop her desperate struggle to bring his flesh to her mouth, and Stiles was desperately scrabbling away, limbs waving like an insect, trying to evade her grip. Before he knew it she was up and coming at him again and he dove under a table.  
  
She was fast in death and more graceful than any zombie had a right to be. Stiles’ weapon was nowhere in sight, so he grabbed a chair and swung it at her, but she didn't stop, wouldn't stop, and he charged with the chair raised, slamming into her body and forcing her back, back, back. She collided with the wall, and Stiles' arms jolted sickeningly with the impact. He stumbled back, just out of reach of Allison's hands as she came at him again. One of the chair's legs had been embedded through her stomach into the plaster behind, and she was held against the wall. He had managed to push her into the supply cupboard and he walked backwards into the classroom, staring at her in horror. She charged at him again and again, hitting the chair that halted her movements, rasping and growling like a rabid animal. He continued moving back and stumbled against a lab table. His legs gave out and he slid down to the floor, sobs wracking his body.  
  
He cried disgustingly, with spit and snot and heaving gags and wails. But it was okay, because no one was there to see him fall apart, only Allison who waved her arms and gnashed her teeth. The only people who could hear him were the dead, who didn't give him pitying looks or lies and useless words _(it wasn't your fault)_ and who didn't break when he did. In a strange way, this was the safest he'd been in a long, long time.  
  
But the dead were always hungry, and despite being safe from the concern of his friends, Stiles was in danger from the creatures that roamed the halls. No matter how awful and guilty and despicable he felt, Stiles didn't want to be eaten alive. So when the first zombie staggered through the doorway Stiles crawled to one of the windows and smashed through the glass, rolling out onto the grass outside and stumbled away from the building.  
  
He could barely see and could barely hear, and frantically scrubbed at his face and heaved in air.  
  
"Stiles!"  
  
Scott was there grabbing him into a tight hug and all Stiles could do was cling to him.  
  
"What happened? Are you okay? Why are you crying?" Scott asked, squeezing him tighter.  
  
Stiles sniffed and tried to catch his breath.  
  
"I-" he started, but the words got caught in his mouth. "I thought you were dead Scottie," he lied, realising as he did that Scott could so easily have died. "You just left-"  
  
"Hey, it's okay, I'm okay," Scott whispered, continuing to hold on to Stiles.  
  
After a few minutes Stiles had managed to bring himself to some semblance of control. He pulled gently away.  
  
"Think that went on a bit too long to be classed as a manly hug." Stiles forced a smile, his eyes dodging awkwardly to the ground.  
  
"I won't tell if you don't," Scott said, bumping Stiles' shoulder as he turned towards the exit.  
  
They set off silently back to Derek's place.  


  
***

  
  
Stiles was working so hard to not freak out again that he didn't notice how his best friend was acting. He didn't notice that Scott kept touching one shoulder, that his body was tense and his breathing fast. And neither of them noticed that Stiles was missing his bag and his bat.

Something was wrong. Very very wrong. But then, what wasn't wrong in this world?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it, the first part to my epic zombie fic. I don't fully know where it's going, I don't know exactly who'll live and who'll die, who'll end up together and who'll fall apart. But what I do know is it will be one hell of a journey, and that there'll be plenty more beloved characters joining along the way (even more than is currently tagged - gotta keep some things up my sleeve!) I hope you'll come along for the ride too!
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> I'm also on Tumblr [@autumnleavessoaring](https://autumnleavessoaring.tumblr.com/) if you want to check me out or come chat (although, fair warning, I'm a Theo/Liam shipper mainly ;-) and real life is currently taking a toll on how much time I spend on fandom *sigh*)
> 
> To peeps who know me for my Thiam works, I hope you don't find the lack of our boys too disheartening! 
> 
> Much love,  
> Autumn / Lauren


End file.
